


What is Mistletoe, Again?

by flowersonthemoon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fic Rewrite, First Kiss, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersonthemoon/pseuds/flowersonthemoon
Summary: Christmas comes to Camelot, and with it, Merlin has a plan up his sleeve to finally win Arthur's heart.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 160





	What is Mistletoe, Again?

**Author's Note:**

> I first wrote this fic way back in January 2012 on ff.net, and in the spirit of Christmas - and my recent interest again in writing fanfiction - I thought it would be fun to rewrite this one.
> 
> A slight canon divergence - Gwen is only interested in Lancelot, and decided with Arthur that it would be better for them to just be friends.
> 
> The fic takes place roughly between episodes 9 and 10 of season 2. There may or may not be some historical inaccuracies that I didn't care about enough to research.

It was three days to Yuletide, and Camelot was abuzz with activity. In the lower town, a festive market had sprung up the week before and showed no signs of disappearing, as people gathered in their dozens for a wreath, a sprig of holly, a thick scarf or a sturdy jacket, and so many gifts.

And, in the castle, preparations were underway for one of the biggest banquets of the year. Up and down the corridors, servants bustled with trees and ornate decorations, and delivered sumptuous gowns to each guest that arrived throughout the day.

In the throne room, some particular preparations were being made, too…

As Merlin stepped down from his stool and glanced through the open doors at the throne, he wondered for probably the hundredth time that day why on earth the prince Arthur was there with him. Right now, he could see Arthur kneeling at a casket brimming with decorations, rummaging through and inspecting each item as if for all the world it was his job to do so. It was utterly bizarre. Surely a prince had better things to do with his time than help his manservant pretty up a room?

That said… it was certainly nice to have the help. Merlin smiled to himself as he stretched and admired his earlier handiwork, a collection of particularly shining wreathes hung around the entrance to the throne room. His back ached from the strain of the day’s hours so far, and admittedly, it was frustrating to not be able to use magic to get the work done. But the present company, bewildering as it felt, was certainly not unwelcome.

Especially when it encouraged Merlin’s mind to play upon a new idea. His eyes flickered up to the mistletoe he had just hung at the doorway, and a sly smile slid onto his face. The idea had been building in the back of his mind ever since Arthur had waltzed into the throne room that morning and begun picking through the boxes - and yes, it was an insane idea. But then, Merlin always had insane ideas. And they worked.

Well. Most of the time.

In any case, this idea didn’t involve using any magic, so it was bound to succeed more easily, wasn’t it? Merlin only had to rely on his own natural charms.

Before he could cringe too much at that thought, he looked across at Arthur, thinking over how to set his plan into action. Arthur had risen now to arrange some kind of floral piece along the lower windows, and in the early afternoon sunlight, Arthur’s figure was captivating. Merlin’s eyes raked over every detail, and he could only imagine how the front looked.

If this plan succeeded, there was very little else of Arthur that he would have to settle for imagining…

“Do you always look so gormless when you work, Merlin?”

Merlin blinked, fantasies dissipating at once as he found Arthur staring at him, eyebrows raised. Merlin didn’t bother to respond, flushing crimson as he dropped his eyes to the mess of Yuletide decorations at his feet.

Arthur snickered, and Merlin’s heart flipped in his chest. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t too late to go through with the plan…

So, praying that his nerves wouldn’t show through in his voice, he cleared his throat and glanced across at Arthur.

“Remind me again why you insist on helping me with this?” he asked. “I’m more than capable of putting a few decorations up.”

Arthur scoffed. But then he cast his gaze around the room for a moment, before he returned to Merlin and seemed to choose his next words with care, rather than scorn.

“When I was a child, I thought everything at Yuletide was… enchanting. I always wanted to see the decorations going up, to be a part of it, but my father forbade it. Never wanted me to be getting too involved with palace servants.” Arthur gave a rueful laugh, but Merlin could see the bitterness in his eyes. It had Merlin shifting uncomfortably on his feet, as he recalled just how awkwardly things had gone the last time Arthur had crossed paths with Gwen, a few days earlier. Despite his own feelings for Arthur, Merlin had always rather hoped that Arthur and Guinevere could be fantastic together. And they had been, for a brief period of time.

Now, however, it seemed that things were to be no more. And not only because of how the king would have Gwen exiled if he ever knew the truth. When it came to matters of the heart, Gwen seemed only to long for Lancelot’s return. It was a pity for Arthur, but then, Merlin couldn’t deny that Lancelot was irresistible to most.

In any case, Arthur clearly had a very different reason than the one Uther had given him as a child for avoiding any closeness with the castle’s staff.

Which made it all the more exciting - and terrifying - to consider how Arthur might respond to Merlin’s current idea.

Oblivious to Merlin’s thoughts, Arthur sighed. “Were my father not so busy today with his guests, you would be alone with this work. And if he were to learn what I’ve been doing today, you would not be escaping any punishments.” Arthur gave an awkward sort of grimacing smile, before he turned away, ready to absorb himself once more in decorating for as little time as he had left to do it undiscovered.

The thought of Uther’s punishments never failed to have Merlin grimacing himself, but he ignored that thought, and only cleared his throat obnoxiously again as he cast his eyes up at the mistletoe, trying to muster up his best confused expression. When he was sure he had Arthur’s attention, he spoke up. “What is this stuff, anyway?”

Even with his eyes averted, he could feel Arthur’s disbelieving stare.

“You must be joking.”

Merlin bit back a grin. For this to work, he had to appear as dumb and witless as possible. Not all that difficult, really. If he could trick Arthur a dozen times over into thinking he was nothing more than a normal servant, then he could easily have the prince convinced that Merlin had no clue what mistletoe was.

Arthur’s tone turned to scorn. “Don’t tell me you’re that stupid,  _ Mer _ lin.”

Merlin shook his head nonchalantly. “I’ve really never seen this stuff before,” he replied. When he chanced a glance back at Arthur, the young prince was beginning to look uncertain.

“It’s mistletoe,” he said, slowly. “Didn’t you have it in Ealdor?”

If Merlin was not mistaken, that was the first Arthur had asked about Ealdor since their journey there. He so rarely seemed to take any interest in Merlin’s past; if Merlin wasn’t so determined to see this plan through to the end, he would have cherished this moment of curiosity for longer.

Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and did his best impression of a fool’s smile. “If we did, I never saw it. Is it some kind of exotic bird perch?”

Arthur’s lips parted, though no words came forth. For a moment, Merlin felt sure that Arthur had to have seen through his ruse. After all, there had to be a limit to anyone’s stupidity, and more to the point, there was a limit to anyone’s luck - and how much more luck could Merlin have, after these two years in Camelot?

But then Arthur flushed pink, a more startling result than Merlin could have ever anticipated. “No.” Arthur spoke quietly. “It’s for kissing.”

_ Well _ . Merlin had finally discovered a matter capable of flustering the future king! The urge to grin grew ever harder to resist; with great effort, he bit back the expression and pulled together another confused face. He wandered into the throne room as though absentminded, scratching his head as he looked at the mistletoe from a new vantage point, closer to the prince.

“It’s pretty high up…” He tilted his head sideways, before he leaned up on his toes and swung his arms theatrically at his sides. “Do you have to jump to kiss it, like a game?”

For a long moment, Arthur seemed only to consider whether or not to bang his - or Merlin’s - head against a wall. Merlin pitied him a little for it. It must surely have been exhausting to deal with such a dimwit all the time.

How fortunate for him, then, that beneath all of Merlin’s appearances there was a mind sharper than most in Camelot.

Finally, Arthur shook his head and sighed. “No, Merlin. People kiss each other underneath it.” He spoke slowly, emphasising each word as though he was talking to a child. Considering the circumstances, Merlin supposed he may well have been.

Which meant, of course, that there had been enough questions and it was time for Merlin to move onto phase two of his plan.

He laughed. “The women must become attached to you every Yuletide, then.”

Arthur’s wry smile returned. “You could say that,” he replied.

“Still,” Merlin interjected, before Arthur had a chance to go on about those women (Merlin was sure he intended to), “it just seems like a really pointless thing to do.”

Arthur frowned, and Merlin knew that he’d said just the right thing. He could almost hear Arthur’s response before the prince even spoke.

“It is an important Yuletide tradition,” Arthur began, in quiet indignation, “and my father would have you put in the stocks - or worse - for saying such a thing.”

Wow. Merlin had been spot on. Who knew that after putting up with the royal prat for just two years, Merlin could already predict the things he’d say, down to the last syllable?

Still. Merlin sucked in a deep breath, knowing better than to relish in Arthur’s predictability. Now was when he had to make the most important move. If he didn’t try this now, then who knew when he’d get another chance? Come the night of the Yule banquet, there would certainly be a girl on Arthur’s arm. It killed Merlin to know that such an endless stream of female suitors existed, all vying for Arthur’s attention, and all of them standing such greater chances with the man than he ever would.

Perhaps he could have been happy with someone other than Arthur, once. It still hit his heart with a pang to think of Freya, of everything she had meant to him. So like him, and so breathtakingly unique at the same time - and he still loved her, in some way. How could he not?

But Freya was dead. She was dead and would never come back to him, and Merlin was far past the point of being able to deny his love for Arthur. Despite every insult - and every object - that had been thrown his way, he had fallen hard for the prince. For his fierce courage and his unexpected compassion, for his smile that lit up the world, and for the nobility in his spirit that wasn’t born from any royal blood but was purely Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin had already lost the only woman he was quite sure he could ever love. And if he lost Arthur, too…

This plan simply  _ had _ to go ahead.

So, he bottled up every bit of his courage, and faced the prince.

“Well - maybe I need an example to show me why it’s so important.”

Silence. Merlin was breathless with anticipation, and Arthur - well, he was equally silent, but Merlin couldn’t have guessed at all what was running through the prince’s mind.

It was possible, Merlin thought, that he had just secured himself a spot in the stocks. Or even the dungeons. Had he really just made an implication for the prince to kiss him?

Gaius was right. Merlin had utterly lost his mind. All confidence in the plan was gone, replaced with utter panic. The words were out, his intent was undeniable. There was no turning back from this. Merlin had battled high priestesses and dark warlocks, griffins and questing beasts, but this - this, it was very possible, would be Merlin’s undoing.

“I-” he faltered, stumbling back and very nearly tripping over his own feet, “I should go, I should really go, my - my lord-”

But Arthur was already advancing on him, expression unreadable but his azure eyes fierce. “Don’t you dare,” the prince declared.

Merlin froze in the entryway, bracing himself for whatever the prince would throw at him - or hit him with - now. It certainly felt like that kind of situation, with the intense way that Arthur stared at him as he strode across the room. Was it too late for him to run away? He was already on the verge of escape anyway, mistletoe dangling over his head between the throne room and his freedom.

But no - definitely too late. Arthur was right in front of him now, one hand catching Merlin’s wrist, and the other - Merlin winced, as Arthur’s other hand came up, no doubt to slap Merlin silly.

Except he didn’t. His hand came up… in a caress. The intensity of Arthur’s gaze didn’t lessen, but this close, Merlin could see it wasn’t anger in his eyes. It was something that Merlin had never seen before.

And then, Arthur’s expression transformed. He smiled, beatific, and Merlin’s breath caught sharp in his chest. Arthur’s smile widened to a grin at the reaction. “You,” he told Merlin, “can be such a clotpole sometimes. Did you know?”

And then he leaned forward and kissed Merlin.

Despite everything leading up to this point, Merlin really hadn’t expected this plan to work so well. He didn’t even know what to do with himself, so caught up in the shock of having Arthur Pendragon’s lips on his - and then there was only room for thinking of the softness of those lips, and the gentleness of Arthur’s hands, belying the strength he wielded.

Before it could even occur to Merlin to act, to return Arthur’s kiss instead of just standing there like… well, like a clotpole… Arthur was pulling away, with that brilliant blue gaze softening as it raked over Merlin’s awestruck expression. A smirk tugged at the prince’s mouth, and Merlin blushed, scrambling to collect his composure.

“That - that was - it’s… it’s my word, clotpole, not yours.”

Arthur burst into laughter, stepping back and allowing Merlin some space to gather himself. Merlin was grateful for it, even as he already mourned the closeness, and he took a deep breath, until his thoughts had cleared and he could speak without sounding like an even bigger fool this time.

“That was… quite remarkable, sire.”

Arthur’s laughter eased, and he looked at Merlin with a thoughtful glint to his eye. “I should hope so,” he replied. “If you were to find anyone else in Camelot’s kisses more impressive than mine, it would be such a hassle to have them banished.”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” he exclaimed. “Although…” he fiddled with his hands, hoping he was reading the situation correctly. “I would have even less to say of other people’s kisses if you had more than one to give me.”

Arthur’s lips quirked, and for a moment he looked so arrogantly self-satisfied that Merlin could have throttled him.

He would, however, have settled quite happily for just kissing that infuriating expression away.

“You may be in luck,” Arthur mused, as his eyes raked over Merlin, slow and deliberate enough to make Merlin shudder. He couldn’t have resisted the look even if he wanted to.

But then Arthur laughed and slapped Merlin on the shoulder, almost sending him staggering. “But not yet!” the prince declared. “You still need to finish decorating this room, and then you need to prepare my armour and my cloak for the banquet, and polish my boots, and see that my horses are well-fed and warm for the night…”

Merlin groaned, turning away to look at all of the decorations still waiting to be placed. He had a long day ahead of him.

But before Merlin could stray too far, Arthur caught his hand and fixed him with a dangerous grin. “Know this,” Arthur said. “If you’ve come to appreciate our mistletoe traditions, just you wait for the bells to ring in the new year. We people of Camelot have a tradition for that, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://warlockofealdor.tumblr.com)


End file.
